Devlin Potter: What If?
by GingeredTea
Summary: A collection of One-shots. In the realm of Devlin Potter there are many things that might have happened differently. These will be a series of one-shot type stories that show how things might have happened. AU of an AU. What happens when you mix Riddle and Potter blood? You get Devlin. Have fun.


**These are one-shots, although I may come back to them from time to time. They're just plot bunnies that couldn't be and I may approach the same idea from different angles. **

My first what if about the Devlin Potter series is:** what if Devlin wasn't 'returned' to Harry and Alex until after Harry had killed Voldemort? An 11 year old finds himself face to face with his mum and dad. **

**I recommend reading the first chapter of "Devlin Potter Riddle and Rescue" before this, at the very least. **

When the wards died, the camp fell into panic. Most of them Disapperated, some of them ran away on foot, while others, the most loyal or the most stupid, Dubhán couldn't sure how to think of them, all sat down in the dining tent and _waited_ for the Auror's.

It was obvious that Voldemort was dead.

Dubhán didn't know what to do. He should probably wait with the men in the dining hall, but somehow he still had more _fight_ in him than that. He had never been Voldemort's _follower_, but he had _belonged_ to the man and the idea that he was _gone_ made him a bit woozy.

Geoffrey found him amongst the chaos.

"Come with me," he ordered and suddenly without Voldemort around Geoffrey was the boss - more experienced, bigger, stronger (at least physically) and Dubhán was only a boy next to him. Ranking meant nothing now. Geoffrey pulled his body against him and they were gone, just as the white robed men lined up around the camp.

They landed in the middle of a small woods and Geoffrey shrugged out of his Death Eater robe to reveal muggle clothes beneath. He pulled a bag off his shoulders and handed Dubhán clothing too.

"When he went to battle, I prepared for this," Geoffrey said at his questioning regard. Dubhán nodded. If Voldemort had come back and seen these preparations, he would have killed Geoffrey. Dubhán tried not to think of that.

They traveled through the woods, stopping in small muggle villages. Geoffrey had Dubhán pay for things since he expected it would look more reasonable for an almost-twelve year old to need a bit of help than a grown man. Dubhán told them he had just spent two years abroad and he was still getting back into the money system. He tried to stay towards old smiling ladies at Geoffrey's encouragement.

One day, they stopped in another small town and Dubhán spotted a bakery. He went in and bought them a pie to share back in the woods and was surprised when Geoffrey was lingering outside, looking at a bit of muggle-white parchment taped up to the window.

**Missing****** it read at the top of the paper, but Geoffrey pulled him beyond it before he could read more.

"Just about a missing muggle boy," Geoffrey said casually.

That night as they set up camp Dubhán caught Geoffrey more than once starting to say something but seeming to think better and busying himself with another task.

In the morning it was not Dubhán who woke Geoffrey up - he was already sitting outside the tent, brooding. Dubhán came to sit down next to him.

"You're planning something," Dubhán said to him plainly. He had known the man for more years than he could properly remember and he thought Geoffrey was probably the only man he trusted with his life.

"To save you," he replied. He turned more fully towards him. "You have to promise me you will let me save you."

Dubhán wasn't sure from what he needed saving and the idea made him frown a bit.

"This isn't a proper life for a boy." Geoffrey went on to say. "Running like this - I never planned it to be what you did for the rest of your life."

After everything that he had gone through. After all the mask he had worn to hide so much from everyone, Dubhán rather thought this was just perfect for him.

"Where are you brining me, Geoffrey?" He asked and he couldn't keep the weariness from his stomach. This hadn't been a trip to run away from the Aurors he now saw, but a journey to somewhere Geoffrey thought he would be safe. Dubhán hadn't felt safe in...he couldn't remember the last time he had felt safe and so he felt a great deal of doubt that Geoffrey would automatically _know_ somewhere he would be.

"You have to trust me," Geoffrey said cryptically. "Please trust me, Dubhán."

He had known Geoffrey since before he could properly remember. Geoffrey had always protected him, even against Voldemort's wrath. Dubhán knew he was the only man he trusted with his life.

He nodded.

"I would do almost anything for you, Geoffrey," Dubhán said and he meant what he said and said what he meant because he knew the danger of these words - knew already the trouble they could get him into and added the 'almost' because of his knowledge.

Geoffrey nodded and they packed up the camp. They went to the bakery again but this time Geoffrey insisted on going in and he sat outside on the little metal chairs, leaning against the little metal tables. Dubhán noticed that the poster was gone - little edges still left from where someone had ripped it. Perhaps they had found the boy during the night.

Geoffrey came out with a cookie in one hand and a cheese pastry in the other. He handed it to Dubhán, who simply stared at it for a long moment.

"That's what you ate last time you were free, right?" Geoffrey asked, sounding amused. Dubhán nodded and they walked along the sidewalk, up the slight hill, down a few streets. It was midday now, the sun burning against their necks and Dubhán mentioned that perhaps they should retire to the camp, but Geoffrey shrugged him off and they continued.

They were in a graveyard now, but Geoffrey pulled him past it and up the sidewalk again. Now they were standing on one side of the street, staring across it at a man who was staring at them.

He might have been six again. Perhaps he was dreaming. Perhaps this was some trick - some _test_.

He turned to Geoffrey slowly, taking in every muscles movement on his face.

The man was walking toward them, covering the distance with a haste and purposefulness that Dubhán was too overwhelmed to feel. He was yards away, then just a foot or two. He stopped at the edge of the curb.

"Hello, Devlin," he said and Dubhán looked up to find tears streaming down his face and he felt Geoffrey's hands on him, steering him closer to the man.

"This is the safe place. You promised you would trust me, Little One."

Everyone called him the Little Dark One, but that wasn't what Geoffrey had said and in keeping the word out he had implied that he believed Dubhán _wasn't dark_ and in implying that, he was further implying that thought the man wouldn't hate him. Harry Potter hated Dark Wizards.

"Hello," he said. He felt surprised to hear the voice of his almost-twelve year old self and not that of himself at six.

"Geoffrey told Mary you don't like hugs," Harry said and all at once Dubhán felt a swell of understanding pass through him. The tea Geoffrey had made them. The sleepiness that had overtaken him. The calm reassurance that they had trekked more that day than they had in the last two weeks. The volunteering to take the first shift. The fact that he had never woken Dubhán for a second shift.

The torn poster.

He turned to Geoffrey and there was a sad smile on the man's face - like he knew Dubhán would never forgive him and was readying himself for the heart-wrenching dismissal. Dubhán had spent almost half of his life hiding his feelings and convincing himself he was just like his Grandfather in his inability to feel them and so he didn't feel a burst of _need_ to reassure Geoffrey or an overwhelming sense of _want_ about Harry Potter. He just felt strange.

"I don't like people touching me," he said flatly, feeling exposed and nervous.

"Then I won't," Harry Potter reassured. "Do you remember me?"

He knew who he was. Grandfather never let him forget about Potter although it had been years since he had connected him with Harry in any sense of blood. He knew Harry Potter as _the enemy_.

But did he remember this man?

"Only in my dreams," he said and it was true. Laughter that hurt his stomach, wind rushing past him on a broom, and the smell of a leather jacket and the protection his arms.

Harry looked pleased at even this remembrance.

Harry's house was different from the way he remembered, not that he remembered very much or very well so it was completely possibly it was really exactly the same. It felt different.

He felt his heart pitter patter against his chest as he stood in the silence of the front hallway. Geoffrey was beside him.

The first sound was the clip-clip of small nailed footsteps. A dog came out from the kitchen and simply stared at them for a long time.

_I have a dog, his name is Zee. _

_Frankly child, I don't care about your dog. _

"Zee."

The dogs head tilted and it settled it's gaze upon him. It's muzzle was graying, it's ears more drooped than before, it's tail down rather than high in the air, and it moved with a grace that the dog he had known could never have fathomed.

It came to him, sniffing and eying him and when it came upon his lank hand, it licked it with it's tongue and for a moment that dream came into his mind, fresh and alive during his waking hours like it hadn't been before.

"Harry?" It was a woman's voice. A lady came to peer around the kitchen doorway, her hair a fiery red, her eyes a brilliant blue, the set of her nose just like his. And he knew her, more than he knew the man. He could remember her face, layers of blur and clarity all mixing together in that moment. Hovering over him, smiling. Warmth and touches and lullabies. There was a bond here that he had never lost and he found he feared her more than the man because of it.

Voldemort, in some ways, had allowed him to keep the memories of her and because of that she made him feel like the nearly twelve year old he was, instead of the six year old he was when he last saw her. With the man he could almost pretend he wasn't Dubhán, the Little Dark One, but with her it was all there, roiling in his gut.

"Oh Merlin," she said, looking at him. He found himself backing away from her and it was only Geoffrey's grasp on his arm that kept him there.

"We're a bit nervous - you can imagine," Geoffrey offered. Geoffrey had rarely ever spoken _for him_ and it felt strange, this new role Geoffrey had undertaken. Or perhaps this was a role he had held himself back from for so many years.

"Maybe you'll explain," she said kindly, "I have tea."

"No."

The word was firm and he felt himself straightening. He said it in the voice that Voldemort had always expected from him and she looked at him now, not just as a child she was surprised to see, but as the young man he had become.

"He won't explain anything at all," he said, because he was horrified that they would know - that _she_ would know.

"Dubhán," Geoffrey said, offering him a _warning_.

Harry peered at them for a long moment and something seemed to click in his brain that hadn't in hers and he said: "Alex and I would love to know what you like to eat - we'll make it for dinner. Do you have a wand? Do you know spells? Do you like to read? We're all dancing around the subject, to be honest, because we don't know how you were treated."

Oh.

He wasn't used to these sort of interactions and he suddenly envied Geoffrey for his obvious ability to play Voldemort's wicked games and these ordinary ones as well.

"I don't like fish. I'm partial to anything else."

Which was true enough, although he'd eat fish if he had too, as well. They both nodded and he took a deep breath.

"I'd take some tea - you said you made some, yeah?"

She nodded and they went to sit in the kitchen.

It was awkward and strange to be sitting across from them. He held his tea, feeling its warmth and trying to _focus_.

"I don't remember much," he said, looking into his tea instead of that them. "I hope you aren't upset."

He didn't really care if they were. He didn't need them like he had when he was six and he thought if they were upset or disappointed he would just walk away and live in the woods. He had liked it there.

"We're so happy you're here, Devlin," the lady said.

"We don't care about anything else," said the man.

Lies. They just hadn't yet _thought_ of what could be. Hadn't thought of who he had become.

"That's because you don't know enough about everything else," he murmured and next to him Geoffrey sighed and put his head in his hands.

"Foolish boy," Geoffrey said under his breath and the man looked at them both, searching for something. The lady fiddled with a napkin.

"If you're supposed to be the Little Dark One some of the Death Eater's tried to give information on - for a reduced sentence - then I already know some of things you're probably worried about." Harry wasn't looking at him as he said the words, but Dubhán didn't need the gaze to feel the intensity of the words. "In which case you should stop worrying, because I don't give a shit about any of it. You're here and that is _all that matters._"

Dubhán felt frozen. Harry Potter looked up, his green eyes intense, his shoulder's set. Dubhán wondered if this determined glint had been in his eyes when he had faced Voldemort. It hit him that _this_ was the last thing his Grandfather had seen.

"He treated me well," he said, even though it was a change of subject, even though it had been an answer they probably didn't think they would get.

"Yet he still made you do those things," Harry said, infuriatingly calm.

Dubhán shoved his palms flat onto the table and stood up. The chair clattered behind him.

"He didn't make me do a fucking thing!" He shouted. "I did those things. There was no wand at my neck. There was no threat of punishment. I did those things! Look at me! I look just like him!"

Harry Potter's eyes were hooded and at this angle he could see the scar still etched onto Potter's forehead - a reminded that this man had killed his grandfather.

It was Geoffrey who touched him and held on despite Dubhán's attempt to reel out of the grasp. Geoffrey who pulled himself to his whole height and made sure to make it clear who was smaller. Geoffrey who shoved him hard and let a growl crawl out of his throat. Geoffrey who used the wolf connection between the both of them to show exactly _who was in charge_.

"You're being a fool!" He shouted at him and for a moment he was frozen along with the man and the woman. He was used to this power exchange of course - not from Geoffrey normally, but used to it nevertheless. "Stop it! Just stop it! I didn't risk my neck to get you here - without arrest, without them checking your bloody wand - for nothing! Stop trying to make it all worthless because no matter what that bastard said to you that first night, you're not _worthless_."

_Worthless_.

The word struck a cord with him and he froze, Geoffrey's hands digging into his shoulder.

"I think that's enough," Harry Potter said and there was a growl in his throat too and his wand was out, pointed at Geoffrey. "He's a boy. He doesn't know what to do. Of course this meeting is going to be shitty."

There was an intensity in the room that was unsettling Dubhán and even when they resumed their seats, Dubhán still felt his magic pulsing beneath his skin like a hive of bees.

"Do you want to change clothes? I can shrink some of Harry's," the woman asked. "You as well," she added, looking at Geoffrey.

Geoffrey shook his head and Dubhán followed his lead. The lady seemed to deflate a bit, but he thought it was more that she now didn't have anything to do except sit in the awkward silence.

"What do you like to do?" Harry asked, splaying his fingers across the table top in a gesture of peace.

Dubhán thought hard. He would need to tell them something innocent - something that didn't reveal too much. So the fact that he most liked inventing new spells wouldn't do.

"I like reading," he said, taking another sip of tea. "My favorite study is charms."

There, that must be semi-normal for a nearly-twelve year old, not that he would know since he had never met another child his age before.

"That's wonderful," the lady said, smiling at him. "I'm fairly good at charms as well."

"I am not," the man admitted, and Dubhán wasn't used to this openness about weakness. His startle must have shown plainly on his face, and Harry just frowned at it in his own confusion.

"He's also excellent at Potions," Geoffrey added and Dubhán wished he hadn't, because he knew that at times it was better to be undervalued than people knowing your true value.

_I am worth something_, he used to tell Grandfather, who would frown until that day that Dubhán had seen fit to _explain_ exactly where the phrase came from. _You're worthless_. He hadn't known what the word meant when Malfoy had said it too him, but he had taken the _need_ to be _worth something_ to heart afterwards.

"Do you have a wand then?" The lady asked and Dubhán tried to search his mind for her name because he knew he wouldn't be able to call her 'mum' even in his head.

"Yes," he said simply. He had been trained not to _'_show off' his wand and risk it being stolen.

They nodded. Silence descended.

Suddenly there was a flash of green behind him and it took every inch of his self-control not to leap out of his seat. The woosh meant it was probably a fireplace, but Dubhán didn't have much experience with them, so he remained tense.

"I just forgot my book!" Came a shout. It made Alexandra (yes, that was her name!), jump to her feet, but apparently not fast enough. A girl tip-toed past the kitchen only to pause, curiosity plain on her face. "Oh, hello...sorry Daddy I didn't think you were having a meeting. I just forgot my book and Sirius was busy arguing with Remus and-"

Her eyes were on him, studied him with an intensity that Dubhán was only used to seeing in men who were far from innocence. He hadn't known it was possibly to look at someone like that and still appear so _childish_.

"It's alright, Emma," he said, rising to his feet. "Let me help you find it, alright?"

She nodded and he could hear her in the hallway as they walked away asking questions about him.

"No really, who is he?" Her voice was persistent as they defended the stairs again. Dubhán clenched his hands together under the table and willed himself to stay very still.

"That's Emma I don't know if you re-"

"I remember her," he said. "She's the reason I stayed."

He hadn't meant to say the words, but they came tumbling out, regardless of his want. The lady was frowning at him, Geoffrey looking curious but confused, and the man, who had come back without the girl just in time to hear, looked the same.

So, once more, without fully meaning too, he explained.

"When I was seven I escaped," he said and Geoffrey's brow twitched because this part he knew. Dubhán didn't let himself look at the other two. "He caught me and he told me I was old enough to understand a deal and she was the deal and that was why I stayed. As long as I stayed, she was safe. She and _you_," he said, letting his gaze rise and rest on the lady. "Potter could never be part of the deal - I knew that even back then."

He had never let himself say the words aloud. They were a distant and strange memory, entering into a deal like that when he had truly been so young.

Yet now, saying the words he could kind of see what Potter had meant about Voldemort _making _him.


End file.
